the irony and the heat

Talking with J last night on a staticky connection, one made on our new jungle phone he excitedly tells me about the view in the picture he sent me, a view he thinks is better than the one we have right now. He's both dreamy and focused, all he sees are possibilities there, things to do and ways to create. He's hot and happy, bug infested and exhilirated and while I can listen it's hard to really see it but it feels real all the same. The village women, one in particular have risen to the occasion, she's invited him to dinner the past few nights down a dark dirt road to where lights softly glow. He sits among her family, cinderblock walls and the heat balancing the beans and rice with the undeniable feeling of welcome, of folks who have nothing taking the time to share what little they have with him.

Things are good so far, some things he'd envisioned aren't quite right but for the most part it's as it should be, he bubbles with talk of kindergarten and toucans, the things he cannot wait for us to see and I miss him and I don't miss him, he's where he should be and I'm catching up on my sleep and wrestling with my own personal jesus.

In shakier territory I've failed to grasp the opportunity within my last post, I sit idly by and watch it float away. She's leaving today and again I've done nothing, the mere thought of doing something causes me to fold on top of myself from the inside out. It's ironic and I know it, I have no problem fighting all day long for the rights of others, access to housing and a warm meal. I'll take on the system in the name of the cause I believe in but I can't seem to muster up that same passion for the one cause that entirely belongs to me.

I think I'll turn this off for the weekend, I'll enjoy the warm sun and the sweet taste of freedom, I'll find ways to conjure up the woman I used to know and want to make friends with again. It's not much, this distance is new but it's something I can manage and that alone is something enough.